


Truckloads of Potential

by Raspberry_Omega



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Femmes with spikes, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mech Preg, Mpreg, Multi, Other, Self Service, Sexual Tension, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Transformers Plug and Play Sexual Interfacing, femmes with big spikes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-19 02:58:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13114545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raspberry_Omega/pseuds/Raspberry_Omega
Summary: Warning! Do not proceed unless you're fine with 'femmes with spikes' (especially when they use them to frag Optimus Prime).As part of a recent action, Pyra Magna waded through areas of liquid containing corrosive chemicals, and was required by the Chief Medical Officer upon returning to the Autobot headquarters to have all her subspace structures bared, rinsed with solvent and air-dried. While this is going on in the Med Centre, Optimus Prime drops by to have his battle masks repaired, and he is not sure if he likes what he sees.And there are several points here worthy of attention1. Interfacial Arrays are certainly a type of subspace structure2. The size of Pyra's spike is the-Pride-of-Caminus level and superbly ample for truckformers like the both of them3. Optimus is fed up with bots around him being insatiable with his big Primal spike while he has a secret wish to try something new at some point4. The other day when Pyra broke his battle masks he felt sick with himself the whole day for getting a secret pressurisation beneath the panel the moment Pyra punched him into the ground





	1. All That Magenta-Teal Stuff

**Author's Note:**

> Does this count as F/M? I don't even know. I was about to select F/M, but I did not want to mislead the straight guys here so I selected something else.  
> And just so it is clear, this story is about PYRA FRAGGING OPTIMUS WITH HER BIG PARAGON-SIZED SPIKE.  
> (What do you mean 'GO TO HELL'? Where have I been all along?)

First let's have a little appetiser before getting down to our main business.

This is not part of this story but it’s also PyrOptimus, here for some additional muse.  
Conflicts over Matrix competence are a constant theme in the relationship between the two truckformers, and it’s only natural that the size of their spikes becomes a part of that contest too. From my equally evil tf blog <https://virtuomagnus.tumblr.com>  
18+ only, sweetsparks.

* * *

 

Three solar cycles had passed before Optimus finally brought himself around to the Med Centre to have his damaged battle masks seen to. It wasn’t like his schedule was too tight for it, though. It was guilt that had been holding him back.

Three cycles ago, he let the words that ‘the Matrix is just a generator’ slip his mouth and that was when Pyra Magna barged into the scene and used some violence on him. While the other bots present gawked at their Prime being punched into the ground without fighting back, his frame was washed over by a severe sense of shame as he noticed he had immediately got a pressurisation under the panel from that. He couldn’t remember the last time something of the same absurdity level happened. Competent Prime or not, he had always had good self-control, excellent even. There seemed to be just something about Pyra’s way that inexplicably got him on.

He made a turn, processor preoccupied with the train of thoughts, and the Med Centre was just a couple of yards away.

How was Pyra different from everybot else?

Optimus was used to being followed and respected, perhaps, and those among the Autobots who had both the nerve and the guts to challenge him were rare. The firetruck’s challenge was not unwelcome, though, and Optimus found himself more appreciative of her adversary than irritated by her defiance. Honestly, Pyra could have made a good Prime, Optimus thought. That was, if she could manage to tame her own temper a bit.

He walked into the Med Centre and lifted his helm. And –

There was Pyra Magna, standing in a rack which, by the look of it, had been designed for the purpose of supporting the joints of bots as they remained in a same pose for prolonged lengths of time. Pyra had her arms placed on the sides, her shoulders and hips bound by rubber bands that slightly lifted them, and all the subspace structures exposed. The moment Optimus stepped in, Pyra’s arm-mounted blasters appeared as if they had been aimed right at him.

‘Primus,’ Optimus shook his helm, ‘what is all this?’

‘Optimus Prime,’ Pyra greeted him but did not answer his question, sounding a tiny bit displeased. Optimus could not guess the reason yet. Pyra was always grumpy, after all, especially when he was around.

From the top of the rack, where there was an awning of sort, a thread of soft fabric appeared to be pulled straight by something it was holding in place. Optimus’ optics followed it downwards and it led him to –

‘OH NO! PRIMUS NO!’ He bounced back, almost horrified by what he saw.

Hanging by the thread was an ENORMOUS SPIKE of an all-too-familiar magenta-teal colour scheme, striped with a string of white biolights on the underside, which was facing him, and the massive size of it, - it was just obscene.

‘WHAT IS ALL THIS!’ Optimus lost his composure and started yelling. This was the first time in millennia he got so angry with an ally rather than enemy.

‘YOU TELL ME!’ The firetruck yelled back, ‘I didn’t invite you in!’

‘Then perhaps you should have locked the door?!’

‘It was locked before I got strapped in this stupid thing and told not to move, and the medic on duty had to leave for something, and he said he’d be back really quick, and I refrained from shouting at him!’

After a heavy in-vent and ex-vent, Optimus managed to regain his Primal demeanour. ‘Fine then. What treatment is this anyway?’

‘I drove through some waters this morning. The remainder of the liquid on my armour drew attention because of the smell, and was sampled, and was revealed in the lab test to be corrosive. I was advised to have all my subspace structures thoroughly rinsed and air-dried.’

Optimus opticked that big spike on a thread. It was FLACCID, apparently. Hard to imagine its pressurised size – wait, why was he imagining such unspeakable things at all?

‘I’ll leave you be then,’ Optimus turned around to hide his blushing faceplates, and decided to come back later for the repairs of his battle masks.

‘Optimus,’ Pyra called out.

Optimus stopped and averted his helm.

‘I… I’m sorry I broke your masks,’ she said.

The uncharacteristic gentleness in her tone brought another wave of heat onto Optimus’ face. He turned back again. ‘It’s Okay. Don’t worry, Pyra.’

With this he left.

At that moment, he had yet to realise bigger problems about Pyra Magna than ‘challenging his status as Prime’ had already started.

* * *

Optimus smashed the third datapad in a row before coming back to himself. Shame, guilt and fury rampaged through his mind as he found himself unable to get the image of that huge magenta-teal spike out of his processor. He’d been a top in berth since forever though. He was Optimus Prime. Who could think of spiking him? When it came down to interfacing, his partners had always assumed the bottom role for themselves, so much so that the Prime had barely even entertained the idea of the other way around.

But what if?

He began envisaging a scene where he was pinned down by another powerful frame and retracting his own valve cover while venting and writhing with need. He imagined how it must feel to have a huge, magenta-teal coloured…

No! No more magenta-teal stuff!

‘Enough!’ he bellowed, then realised he had said it out loud.

Soundwave had just crossed the doorstep and was taken aback by the outburst. Before Optimus could say a thing, the Decepticon ally thought better of reporting in right now and simply left.

And Optimus sank his fist into the desk. He so hated losing control.


	2. Firetruck Weakness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Optimus Prime cannot even set his optics on Victorion without evil notions flooding his mind and has to ditch duty for a desperate release.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't even a perv before this story.

When a bot is in recharge, his processor unwinds itself from the previous cycle’s workloads, during which details of significance may reoccur and form stories to their own inexplicable logic.

To try and interpret those would just be absurd, not to mention the idea that those stories had anything to do with the bot’s genuine wishes.

To assume that a bot would want what appeared in their processor during recharge would be OBSCENE.

Optimus Prime knew he definitely did not want what he had viewed a moment ago, when he booted up in the morning realising he had not been weighed down by a firetruck and fragged through every surface that could be found in his quarters.

What was worse about it was that he knew he enjoyed being dominated like that during the brief mind-theatre event, the evidence of which now mortified him, as the insulation covers in his berth were sufficiently soaked with _two_ types of fluids.

He checked the chronometer. Not enough time. And he still had a pressurisation and a pretty severe leaking, even though he was sure what had snapped him out of recharge had been a mind-blowing overload. Anyway, he had to make it quick.

And he did.

* * *

The Colonist Soldiers were a little bewildered when they were commanded to cancel their routine today and await orders. Optimus did this and assigned their tasks to Team Victorion instead. No one except himself knew this was for the purpose of getting Pyra Magna out of his sight so he wouldn’t have to fight with his own processor when it functioned on itself to evoke images and thoughts about…

‘Why’d you do that?’ having remained silent for a while by the Prime’s side, Arcee spoke up with a scowl. It was not as if it would take the valour of a former Garrus-9 inmate of top threat level to question his decisions, but most of his subordinates just respected him enough to not do that until absolutely necessary.

Before he could respond, Soundwave handed him a datapad with a single line on display, ‘We’ll need Victorion today, Prime. A new Ore-13 spot has just been unearthed and we can set up a site within one solar cycle with the help of a combiner.’

Optimus sighed. Alright, he’d just try preoccupying his mind with real professional business the whole time so that nothing magenta-teal and inappropriate would have the chance to sneak into his processor.

* * *

Not until the moment Victorion appeared in his visual did he realise how wrong he had been. Had there ever been a hotter combiner? Wait. He shook his helm. It was nothing new! He had seen Victorion plenty of times. If she had been hot, that would’ve been it all along, not something he’d just come to realise – oh, and Victorion had this handsome, BIG-AFT SWORD too.

And that was it.

Pressure was threatening to break through his front panel cover, and on the underside, the insulation foams lining the intimate armour were being soaked through.

Damn it. He had known, though, that self service wouldn’t fully serve its purpose unless commenced at a normal pace. Force a quick one out and disgraceful thoughts come back to haunt you within hours.

‘I shall go and reconnaissance,’ Optimus announced. He transformed into alt mode and sped off before any of his fellow Autobots had the time to come up with a question.

* * *

He found a quiet corner to deal with his personal business. This time, though, he decided he would be exhaustive, so that after the release he should be able to set his optics on magenta and teal and Victorion’s sword without subsequent embarrassment.

He quickly sat down with his back leaning against a giant rock, slightly parted his thighs and snapped his front panel open. The throbbing blue and red spike shot out before he could blink, and the biolights, also white, were glowing from the sensation as the painfully pressurised equipment was finally allowed to breathe.

He worked his spike the usual way, and it was intensely good. It could be even better, though, if he allowed himself to think of…

Of a certain oversized magenta and teal tool of a certain firetruck.

NO! That was where he drew the line.

He grunted and kept on going.

When he realised he had got himself stuck plateaued for half an hour and things were even more painful than before, he decided to have that previous line blurred so as to save precious time. He was the Prime after all, he had got responsibilities. He could not have self service taking up much longer than this.

Things heated up real quick after ‘thinking about magenta and teal’ was permitted, but it was still not good enough for him to overload.  
And he felt that the lips of his valve seemed to be kissing each other beneath the panel. Hating himself, he retracted the cover, seeing as pleasuring his spike was clearly not enough.

With one servo pumping and squeezing up and down his spike, Optimus reached the other one down to his valve and inserted some digits in there. And it felt so surprisingly right. It had been so long since the last time his valve had had any attention.

Two sets going at once, Optimus thought, this has got to serve the purpose.

But it was still not enough –

-the reason being, if your frame outran your processor this much, they just couldn’t work together.

He had got to get his processor involved too.

One of the scenes from last night’s recharge flashed across his mind, the one where he had been fragged on the desk, positioned just like he was right now.

‘Mmh… Pyra…’ he murmured.

What? Why would he call out that name!? No this was definitely not okay, he thought to himself.

But the moment the name came out, everything felt like they had been boosted with a magical charge, and the moves on his servos were suddenly thrilling and electro-magnetic.

Damn it.

‘Oh, oooohhh Pyra,’ he slid his digits in and out of his valve a little faster and rubbed the tip of his spike with the other servo, and both felt AMAZING.

Damn it. As long as it worked, he might as well just let down his personal rules once this time. Besides, what harm could it do to moan out the name of someone in secret just so your self service better ensured the goal of a full release?

He dismissed the sense of guilt and let things run towards their full potential. He could not believe the words being his own when they came out of his vocaliser, but they totally worked.

‘Oooh Pyra, yes, yes, yeeeesssss, Ahhh-, yes, frag me, FRAG ME! NNGHHH yes FRAG ME, oh – ‘

Optimus’ servos went into a stimulating frenzy as verbal obscenity sent his processor spinning simultaneously. Things went from FANTASTIC to ORGASMIC as the final line of dirty talk came out punctuating his overload –

‘YES PYRA FRAG ME IMPREGNATE ME! AH!!!’

He should have felt embarrassed by the amount of transfluid he came with, if he had not been so utterly destroyed by the sentence he had just blurted out without thinking through.

WHAT WAS ALL THAT ‘IMPREGNATE ME’ STUFF ABOUT?

And to think THAT was what actually OVERLOADED him.

For a brief moment, Optimus Prime just felt like subspacing his guns up to blow his own helm off.

* * *

By the time he returned to his quarters, Optimus had had crucial measures taken. He had been to the Med Centre and received a Type-I Shunt. This thing had been invented millions of years ago. It was almost always enough to serve its purpose so no one had bothered to improve it. Once it was installed, it worked in this way to physically prevent pressurisation and lubrication, leaving your processor to spin in whatever ways it liked.

He had been warned, though.

‘This shunt is best not worn for too long. The method is archaic. It might just cause problems of its own.’

But if he had opted otherwise, he’d be back to deserting his duty as Prime due to his newly discovered firetruck weakness.

At least that was one problem solved, Optimus thought so to himself.

He was right. For a time.


	3. Temperature Abnomalities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Installing a shunt saves Optimus from minor embarrassments while eventually brings about major distress. Pyra just has to appear when the Prime struggles to keep things under control and fast-track his circuits into surging.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The truck on truck action was scheduled to be in this chapter but the drama ends up lengthy  
> But hey, I've finally managed to put an unconscious Optimus in Pyra's arms

Things had been peaceful until this morning, when Optimus was forced out of recharge one hour before the scheduled boot-up time, by a core temperature alarm. His whole frame ached, his armour felt heavy and his platings gave off a faint scent you’d probably come across near a smelting pool.

He was too busy for this scrap. In the Med Centre, after being told that the temperature abnormality had been caused by the shunt, he simply had that thing removed and then went straight back to work.

But it wasn’t over.

The core temperature alarm was supposed to be gone by now, hours after the cause of it had been taken care of. Still, Optimus did not feel fine, and the warnings kept flaring up even more fervently as he tried to concentrate on the documents and reports he was dealing with, and it was just not going right.

He dismissed all those alerts in his HUD and forced his attention on the files before his optics. The words were blurry. He reset his optics. And the words faded into his vision.

‘…Several Earth Decades prior to this point, human military persona Spike Witwicky had suggested to the…’

SPIKE Witwicky.

That human just had to have a name like that. Though he was an old friend and certainly did not bear his name to spite Primes desperately trying to withhold their base needs.

Optimus felt something in his frame stirring as the word ‘spike’ got stuck in his processor. And things quickly fell out of control.

* * *

A second visit of the solar cycle to the Med Centre and he was informed, to his immeasurable remorse, that the archaic Type-I Shunt had indeed caused more damage than he would have sanely opted to endure – an artificially induced heat cycle.

All he got then, was a medical file granting him a ‘compulsory withdrawal from duty until condition improves’ and a servobook on ‘how to avoid system failure from severe interface-related core temperature abnormalities’. He felt a bit patronised and irritated, but then again, he had no one to blame but himself.

He’d just have to return to his private quarters and self service the pits out of himself. 

* * *

On the way back to his quarters, though, he suddenly remembered something of importance. The Matrix Chamber was very close to his spark chamber, and the spark chamber was certainly one of the most afflicted area of the frame during core temperature abnormalities. He had to save his own life, true, but he also had to save the artefact that he upheld as, of course, far more important than his own life.

He paused, made sure to stand perfectly still against the wall on one side, raised his windshields and opened the Matrix Chamber. He carefully extracted the Matrix with both servos before replacing the covers and pushing the windshields back down. Just when he was about to subspace the artefact into one of the compartments on his arms for safekeeping, his cerulean optics met with two furiously glowing orbs of the same colour as his own, of someone roughly the same size as himself.

The Magni, you know, Magnus, Magna and the like, they just don’t smile. It’s a faculty issue.

And right now it was worse. Pyra Magna’s face was so grave with wrath it made the Prime wonder, where were you when that Gladiator from Tarn prided himself on petrifying his enemies by merely flashing his denta?

‘Optimus Prime,’ Pyra started, ‘would you like to explain what’s happening right now?’

He would have told her the truth, but the image of that HEAVY-WEIGHT-CLASS-SIZED SPIKE abruptly brushed through his processor and he was, again, unhinged, and the presence of the truck-with-a-tremendous-tool immediately seemed unendurable.

‘I do not answer to you, Pyra,’ Optimus’ deep voice had a certain degree of menace to it – as unconsciously intended for scaring the image of the spike away from his processor.

‘No, you don’t,’ Pyra responded with unaffected even speech, ‘but the Matrix is my responsibility. As long as you’re the holder, I’m obligated to ensure you act the Prime you are designated as.’

‘I appreciate your concern.’ with this, Optimus attempted to simply walk past Pyra, and was stopped by a teal servo on his chest, pressed against one of his windshields. He opticked the Camien’s lips which were pulled into a thin line and inadvertently imagined the feeling of his own lips on them. But he wasn’t himself. Anybot afflicted with this level of temperature abnormalities would have notions of the same calibre.

‘You are not leaving while dangling the Matrix in one servo like a toy!’ Furious, Pyra pressed even harder, and Optimus was almost certain that a number of circuits in his processor just shorted from that. Pyra’s touch. Pyra’s warmth.

It was easier somehow, to have had those circuits temporarily turned off, and he suddenly found it absolutely acceptable to resort to violence when he needed to. Another temperature warning flickered in his HUD as he launched his fist towards the other truckformer’s face.

Optimus’ motion faculties were, at the moment, impaired by the frying circuits in his processor and the attack fell apart as he lunged to one side, before being caught in the arms of a confused Pyra Magna. Finally, through the physical touch against his metal, the tactless paragon realised what the Prime problem this cycle had been all about.

In the last moments before blacking out, with some of his nobler circuits still fused and dysfunctional, he suddenly knew what he wanted. As Optimus collapsed onto the ground, he managed to haul the firetruck off balance too, having her landing right on top of him with one leg wedged between his thighs. Pyra was stunned, and with his optics dimming the Prime could hardly make out from her face what she could be thinking.

‘Pyra…’ he whispered. Take me, just… take me, he almost allowed these words to escape his vocaliser.

Then he noticed Pyra wasn’t exactly focusing on him. He followed her optics and saw what she considered more pressing than him being killed by the heat.

The Camien had had the Matrix taken over and carefully held in her servo even as she fell.

Righteous, righteous, my PARAGON.

Optimus dropped into unconsciousness with a mixture of mortification and relief.


	4. Moments of Resolve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pyra has a fairly good sense of what is going on, and takes the initiative. But Optimus is unsure and stuck with conflicting thoughts, and probably just too proud to admit to what he wants. And things don't go smoothly, needless to say.

Optimus booted up to recognise the quarters he was in as NOT his own.

He was alone.

His core temperature was not back to normal yet, but considerably cooled. He could tell, though, to reach this status, his frame had forced power-off, once. Should that happen repeatedly, there would be real danger.

He began to recall the folly before he blacked out and, now sober and himself again, he felt like a bullet through his brain module.

First, he had always _known_ that the Matrix Chamber was insulated from the rest of his frame, but during the moments of his processor’s heat-induced malfunction, that piece of information had somehow failed to be referred to, as sections of his module had apparently not even been working collaterally any more.

Second, he had powered off in Pyra Magna’s embrace. He had never been that unprofessional and reliant. And as if that itself had not been humiliating enough, it was Pyra Magna, who had doubted his competence as Prime all along. The whole thing was just unthinkable.

Third, to add insult to … insult, Pyra had paid him no mind when his need was bordering desperation.

And he could not fault her for that.

But what was the situation right now?

These must be Pyra’s quarters. He was careful not to inspect around too much lest he intruded on her privacy. But where was Pyra anyway?

The Matrix was back in the Matrix Chamber in his chest, and he felt he had been fuelled up in accordance with the scheduled timetable too. Even the scratches from the previous hassle had been carefully polished.

He felt his spark warmed. _My paragon_ , he thought. He could not believe this was the same truckformer who had punched his battle masks to pieces merely a few solar cycles ago.

He turned to the side in the berth, preparing to get out of it.

And that was when this subtle scent snuck into his olfactory sensors, from the helm side of the berth, where roughly the other truckformer’s vent outlets should rest.

And the scent was just irresistible.

He did not know what it was or what it implied, only that his cooling fans kicked on and the previously subsiding heat came back full-force once the signal of that smell was processed.

‘Primus,’ he was appalled. He needed to get back to his own quarters and deal with this.

The door opened the moment he got on his pedes, and the magenta and teal bot emerged from the entrance.

Optimus’ cooling fans whirred even more feverishly as Pyra stepped in, the door sliding shut behind her.

‘How are you feeling now, Prime?’ She ignored the sound his fans were making, being more concerned about his condition.

How was he feeling?

Like the tip of a spike pressed against his panel cover.

That scent!

‘What is this?’ Optimus couldn’t be bothered to answer Pyra’s question. The scent was slaying him. ‘What is this … fragrance, you have in your quarters?’

Pyra looked puzzled. ‘Fragrance?’

‘There’s this… faint scent, which is…quite delightful,’ he only added the praise to soften the tone. Charge was building up across his plating and his temperature was definitely approaching the danger line again.

Pyra smelt around quite a bit. ‘I can’t detect whatever you’re telling me about. My team has been here quite a few times, too. No one’s ever told me anything about fragrance or scent.’

‘Never mind,’ Optimus slid his battle masks on to hide his blushing, ‘thank you for… what you’ve done for me. I owe you a lot. But I’ve got matters to attend to so if you’ll excuse…’

‘You’re not going anywhere, Prime,’ Pyra sounded grim, ‘The Matrix is my responsibility and so is the holder of it. I don’t entertain the idea of you powering off again once you walk out of this door.’

Optimus felt, at once, offended. ‘Would you pardon me, Pyra? Though you question my competence as Prime, as is known to all, I’ve never realised you’d go so far as to also question my competence to care for myself.’

‘No, I most certainly don’t,’ Pyra still sounded unemotional, ‘the only concern I have about you taking care of yourself is that you’re _overheating_ and trying to affect otherwise.’

Optimus’ faceplates were on fire. ‘Excuse me?’

‘Which part of what I said did you not get? You powered off and I brought you back, and you think there’s a chance I DON’T know what’s going on with you?’

Optimus felt he was completely destroyed by this.

Yet Pyra kept going. ‘You think powering off in hallways because you’re too ashamed to tell anyone what you need is the kind of behaviour worthy of a Prime?’

Not ANYONE! Just YOU! Optimus was yelling with his spark but he did not vocalise. As if trying to ensure his words came out clear, he retracted his battle masks again.

‘You certainly always maintain the courteous demeanour that is apparently more worthy of that designation I reckon,’ somehow this was what came out of his mouth. He wanted a Relinquishment on his brain module then and there.

‘Very well then.’

For a moment Optimus thought she was going to leave and let him face his own misery. He certainly deserved it.

Pyra walked towards the door. This was it. She was leaving. Optimus was distraught. For the past several solar cycles, he had just been something completely contrary to his usual self, the calm, gentle and fearless Optimus Prime. And he decided if Pyra walked out on him he certainly would stop thinking about her forever. He’d probably have a line of override code burnt into his module permanently to ensure that. And –

And the light was turned out.

He linked his visual to infra-red, but he was so overheated the radiation from his own frame interrupted everything in his vision and all he could see was a blurry truck-sized figure lunging at him. Before he knew, he was pinned down in Pyra’s berth with both his wrists restrained and his whole frame weighed down by this other powerful frame and his mouth tasted by soft delicious lips against his own.

‘Mmmphhhhhf… mmm…’ Optimus felt fluids streaming through his underside panel. Being pinned down was so refreshingly exciting. Yes Pyra, dominate me. Not a lot of bots can.

‘You dare! Pyra Magna!’ Somehow this was his response.

‘Huh?’ Pyra did not loosen the grip, because the semitruck was not struggling.

‘I may be in distress but I’m still your Prime, and you’ll do well to…’

Optimus bit back his own words when his thighs were pressed apart and a servo flattened against his underside panel. He could feel the passion through the cover. And of course, the firetruck felt the fluids too.

A part of Optimus knew this was insanely inappropriate, despite the fact that this was clearly what was wanted and needed by his overheated frame. The touches from Pyra felt so right, but they were so WRONG.

In a moment of resolve that was typical of his usual self, the Prime gathered up strength and threw the firetruck off the berth. Pyra was completely taken by surprise as she landed heavily on the floor and glided across the room, the bruising motion halted by hitting a chair close to the wall.

Realising what he had just done, Optimus’ spark felt like it was shattering apart. What pained him more was Pyra’s reaction to this.

‘I…I’m sorry, Optimus,’ she said, ‘I thought you… I’m sorry, I was mistaken. Please forgive me.’

Oh, _my paragon_. It’s not you. It’s me, and the conflicts in me that I cannot withhold.

Optimus was at a loss for words.

Pyra carefully got herself off the floor, walked towards the door and switched the lights back on. She looked sad.

Optimus inspected the magenta and teal frame. He had just caused a series of dents and scratches on the gorgeous truckformer, and the more he admired the way Pyra carried her might, the worse he felt about himself for inflicting damage on her.

‘I’m sorry, Prime.’ Pyra sat herself down on the berth, but kept a wary distance, ‘Press charges if you want. Hate me if you want. But what I can’t have is the worsening of your current condition. Please contact the Med Centre. You probably don’t have enough trust in me but you must have in Skyfire. There are protocols for this condition for you to request aid from a desired partner, and they’re legally required to keep things confidential.’

All Optimus had to vocalise to have all this solved was ‘I want you to be my partner, Pyra’, but somehow this was harder and tougher than fighting in a four-million-year war, and as his processor struggled to think up an alternative to that, the Camien rose to her pedes and walked towards the door without another word.

The incident had him sufficiently cooled down, so much so he could think better than he had been able to since the shunt dragged him into this series of trouble. Pyra was hurt in frame and emotion. And where could she be headed?

Optimus got up and followed out.


	5. A Rare Pair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A potent Cybertronian is far rarer than a point-one percenter.  
> A fertile Cybertronian is also far rarer than a point-one percenter.  
> And in this case, the former is too embarrassed to bring things up to the latter, and the latter, being a point-one percenter, is confident enough to overlook the possibility of encountering a chance like this.  
> They’ll probably have to deal with all that at some point, if not this cycle, when things are too heated for consequences to be considered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pyra frags and impregnates Optimus.  
> I know this is seriously evil. Come kill me.

Optimus transformed into alt mode the moment he was out of the headquarters. There on watch duty to mind the entrance was Midnight Express, who, when Optimus was about ten yards away, appeared in the mirror to be seemingly waving and shouting at him about something he'd just come to remember.

Optimus couldn’t be bothered. He had to find Pyra, and tell her, to the pits with his pride – he just wanted her, like he had never wanted anyone before.

Initially, Optimus was at a loss how to locate his paragon. Galactic Positioning was not a technical issue, but as Autobot City was a floater in Earth’s atmosphere, considering the increasingly hostile moods of the humans, the establishment of a lot of structures had been postponed until further agreements.

He could, of course, simply comm Pyra and ask where she was. But thinking of how bitter he’d feel if Pyra ignored his message, he thought otherwise.

Then there came this scent. The same scent he first encountered in Pyra’s quarters, which Pyra herself could not detect.

The scent wasn’t simply delightful. It was magical. A pulse went across his frame as he felt the callipers twitch in his valve, even in vehicle mode, and his engines whirred louder.

He followed the scent, which led him into the empty areas where no plans of utilisation had come up for them yet. No sign of magenta and teal.

The cold of the air made it much easier to think things through. He had let his pride and sense of shame cloud his judgment. It would be a huge step forward to set those aside and just admit to her what had truly been on his mind. A Prime should have things under control, including his own desire. Running away from it was not the way.

A sharp turn as the trace of scent led him and behind a pillar-shaped metal structure, there sat Pyra Magna, with a datapad in her servo, who somehow did not seem surprised by the appearance of the Prime.

‘Optimus,’ she nodded, ‘so you’re here.’

‘Yes,’ Optimus transformed back to root mode and neared Pyra, ‘I am here.’

He sat down beside her, plucked the datapad out of her servo and laid it down on the ground, while he leant in and pressed his lips against hers.

‘Why are you here? – Of all places?’ Optimus asked.

‘I always come here when I need my mind cleared.’

‘Not just because you want away from me?’

Pyra gave him a confused look. ‘If I wanted away from you, I wouldn’t have told Midnight Express to give you my coordinates if you were spotted heading outside the base.’

‘Oh, I ran too fast for that I guess,’ Optimus raised his brow ridges, ‘but I followed the scent here.’

Pyra looked even more confused.

Optimus didn’t care about that. He reached out both servos to hold Pyra’s shoulders as he kissed her lips again, with uncharacteristic passion. He then leant back onto the ground, pulling Pyra with him, until they were positioned like the moment before Optimus’ circuits surged and he went unconscious, when his superego was not there to prevent himself from showing what he wanted anymore.

‘Pyra, I’ve thought things through. I… I want you. I’ll just face the shame and the guilt and… oh, the pits. I just … I want you.’

With his battle masks retracted, his blushing was easily visible.

‘Oh, I know.’ Pyra was calm as usual, ‘I knew all along.’

She placed another kiss on his lips, relishing his mouth with her glossa. Optimus twined his glossa with the one occupying his warm cave, and roamed his servos down to Pyra’s waist.

The scent. He could taste it now.

‘Optimus Prime,’ Pyra started once they broke the kiss, ‘I knew you want me. I even knew how you want this to go. You’ve been the hero for too long, and the mech in charge everywhere. And in secret, a part of you wants to be dominated in berth, to squirm and writhe beneath someone who could drive you mad with desire,’ she whispered into his audials as teal servos grabbed blue ones, interlaced them and raised them above his helm to pin them in place, ‘you want to be fragged in your long-forgotten valve.’

Optimus felt electricity surging through his platings at those words. He couldn’t believe his paragon just whispered to him something that lewd. But his valve was certainly becoming more energised once those words went through his processor, and the heat was again, bordering the danger line. He retracted his front panel to let out the painful pressurisation.

Pyra just knelt forward some more so that Optimus had to spread his thighs further apart. She planted a series of kisses from his neck cables to his chassis, and wandered her servos through his frame to light him further on.

The touches were wonderful. Optimus could indulge in them forever if he didn’t urgently need something solid and good-sized in his -

The Prime grunted, panel cover snapping back to reveal his valve. Pyra smiled, and brought one servo down to feel it. It was soft, delicate and thoroughly lubricated. She worked on the outside of it, massaging the entirety of it in gentle, erotic moves. Optimus found this rather maddening.

Slag it Can’t you just FRAG ME with that HEAVY-WEIGHT-CLASS-SIZED SPIKE already?

But this was what he could not bring himself to say!

Writhing with need, he brought one servo down to his valve and attempted to start digitting. Pyra wouldn’t have any of it. She shoved the blue servo away and moved on to have Optimus pinned down again with both servos held above his helm.

Optimus squirmed and groaned as his equipment was left completely unattended.

‘Pyra Magna!’ He bellowed, his voice trembling a little.

‘Yes Prime,’ Pyra sounded patient.

Optimus went silent again. He just couldn’t say it.

‘Oh, my Prime,’ Pyra purred, ‘if you could just tell me what you would like? Orders? Commands?’

No. He couldn’t say it out loud.

His cooling fans whirred and his vents went heavier by the second.

‘Are you seriously just trying to have me powered off again? Perhaps assume the Matrix for yourself once I’m properly dead?’

‘WHAT?!’ Pyra was offended.

And three digits smoothly eased into Optimus’ slick valve, probing in there, as the thumb gently teased his anterior node. Optimus’ callipers clamped around the digits as pleasure surged from his equipment across his frame, and from the way Pyra felt it, the valve was sucking and tasting her digits.

‘Oooooohhh…! Ah!’ Optimus gasped and moaned. To the pits with his dignity - he’d rather just have this wild evening with Pyra, because this was just, so, good.

‘Yes Pyra, yes, stretch me, mmmmh, yes, aaahhh…’ he writhed, riding Pyra’s digits, more lubes gushing from the inside. His whole frame was on fire. He reached a servo down and grasped his spike. Pyra acquiesced, for the semitruck desperately needed release to ease his overheated condition.

‘Optimus…’ Pyra murmured, her front panel sliding open. Optimus’ audials clearly caught that sharp retracting sound.

‘Aaahhh, yes, Pyra, frag me, frag me with that BIG SPIKE. PRIMUS THAT SIZE I’VE ONLY SEEN ON MAGNUS AND FORT MAX. Just give it…’ Optimus vented heavily. His processor was spinning, and obscenity just naturally came out of his vocaliser. He SO NEEDED A GOOD FRAG.

The Prime in-vented when he felt the tip of that huge pressurisation positioned against his entrance. Pyra guided the head in with extra gentleness. Optimus’ lips parted as it slid into the sweet, dripping tightness and went in just a little further. Both of them gasped at the sensation.

Pyra kept a slow pace, easing in with tiny to-and-fro motions along the way, biting back the sounds trying to escape her vocaliser. Optimus couldn’t be bothered to keep it down, the way the heat cycle worked on him leaving him no luxury of playing coy any more. He started a variety of delicious moans, which made it hard for Pyra to remain patient and go slow.

The moves were beautiful, the firetruck had the semitruck’s digits interlaced with her own, arms raised above his helm and held in place once she was halfway in and could control the motions with the hips alone. She kissed his neck cables as she ploughed his wet, tight heat nice and slowly. Fluids smeared their thighs and kept leaking to the ground. Optimus had his legs wrapped around Pyra’s waist, moaning to the rhythm. He was being stretched beyond imagination and feeling the existence of sensors that he had not known he possessed. It was all so amazing.

‘Oh… Pyra,’ Optimus groaned as he felt the huge spike buried to the hilt, the tip way into his chamber. Both of their cooling fans were running insane.

Pyra let go of Optimus’ right servo and pressed her left into the ground, intending for him to pleasure his own spike and reach a quick release. Optimus did not make the move. The paragon’s spike filled him so full he could expect a servos-free overload, for the hotspots along the secret places to the upside were clearly being set off all at once whenever Pyra glided through them.

Both of them started venting heavily as the pace accelerated, until Pyra was spiking Optimus so hard each time she pulled out all the way and slammed back the whole length Optimus had to clutch to her sides with both servos to remain in place. Obscenity escaped Optimus’ vocaliser so naturally now that his processor was swimming, and in between his pleasured moans it went like this –

‘Yes, oh yes, Pyra, yeeessss, Aaaaaahhhhhhh! FRAG ME, Pyra, FRAG ME HARD, mmmh, nngh, ooohhh so good, frag me…’

Pyra felt like her faceplates could melt just from those words but they were all so delightful. What she didn’t like about all that dirty talk was that it was TOO HOT for her when she was trying very hard to hold her own pleasure in check – Optimus was the one suffering a heat after all, and she needed to overload him first.

Distracted by these thoughts, the heavy-weight-class spike went a little awry in the following moves and the hard metallic tip just GRAZED THROUGH THE HIDDEN SENSORS along the upside of the tunnel and Optimus immediately lost it.

He came with a ferocious growl as both his valve and his spike pulsated, and as hot fluids shot onto the robust magenta chest, his valve twitched and clamped around Pyra’s spike, squeezing it hard.

Pyra’s optics widened as she attempted to pull out, but Optimus held her in place with his legs.

‘Optimus! Let me pull out…’ Pyra vented heavily, and Optimus was glad to detect the same scent from her venting.

‘Why?’ He drew her even closer with his servos and forced her down with his legs, ‘It’s okay, Pyra, just overload in me.’ He squeezed her once more with his callipers, and Pyra lost it too.

Optimus shuddered as he felt his chamber filled to the brim. It was wonderful.

‘Mmmh. Very pleasant. Every bit of it. Why would you want to pull out? I wouldn’t spill one drop,’ Optimus brought his partner into another kiss.

‘It’s just…’ Pyra was blushing much worse than Optimus, ‘never mind.’

She did not have to spell it. It was embarrassing. Besides, what were the odds that Optimus should happen to be fertile? Fertile bots were near extinct.

For a while they lay on their back at each other’s side and just enjoyed the tranquillity of the moment.

They did never realise the seeds of trouble had already been planted.


End file.
